What I've Done
by letmefallasleep
Summary: Hansel never thinks back on what he did to keep his sister alive. He certainly never has nightmares about it. Warnings: non-graphic mentions of underage prostitution, language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright so... Seen the movie, loved the brother/sister dynamic between the two, got to thinking about them growing up, as two kids all alone, and Hansel wanting to protect his sister. This is the result. Please don't yell if I messed up some facts, I seen the movie once lol. This would take place some time before the actual movie, if y'all like it, maybe I'll make an actual story out of it. Thanks for reading, please review, and enjoy. : )

* * *

Ever since they were kids, Hansel had been far less trusting than his younger sister. Gretel just didn't understand.

She'd never understood.

It was a dangerous world the siblings lived in. And not just because of the fucking witches, or whatever other evil shit they were fighting on whatever shitty day, in whatever shitty town they happened to find themselves in.

It was the people. Gretel just couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that people could be just as evil as the things they hunted.

And people didn't have tells like the monsters did.

But Gretel… She just couldn't see it. No matter how often Hansel told her –no matter how much he begged –she refused to believe it.

A part of him loved her for that.

And a part of him hated her for it.

* * *

After killing the witch, only Hansel had realized the dire straits their parents had left them in. Two years older than his sister, he had quickly realized just how fucked they really were; how very few options they had. They were two orphaned children, alone in the world, with no skills, no money, and absolutely no future.

The orphanage they'd tried the first two months after the witch incident had been a complete and total disaster. Hansel had barely slept, taking short five or ten minute naps at odd intervals throughout the day, and only when he could be absolutely sure that Gretel was safe.

From the first day, he'd heard the older boys talking about her. How clean, and sweet, and innocent looking compared to all the other girls, who had lived in the orphanage their whole lives.

He'd heard them talking about what they wanted to do to her. What they were going to do to her if they got the chance.

So hardly a day went by when he wasn't going after one of the fucking pigs for trying to get to his sister. No matter how many times he got the shit beat out of him, no matter how many times he was caned by the Matrons, he never told Gretel why. And sweet, innocent Gretel had never understood.

But when the Head Mother had thrown eleven-year old Hansel out onto the streets, Gretel had followed. Even though she didn't understand why her brother kept getting into trouble, she'd blindly followed wherever he'd taken her.

Hansel knew the options they had. Knew how bleak they really were. Whoring themselves out on the streets of Augsburg, fighting the other street kids for enough scraps to survive another day… Or stealing whatever they could, and praying to a God Hansel didn't believe in that they wouldn't be caught, and whipped, maybe branded –or worse, lose a hand.

After a few days of starving, and absolutely no sleep, though, he'd realized that he didn't have a choice. It was his responsibility to keep her safe.

So when he found himself on his knees in a dirty alley, or bent over a table in some filthy backroom, he'd tell himself that it was okay, because Gretel had enough to eat. When he was whipped by town officials, or beaten by an angry merchant for stealing, he knew it was okay, because Gretel was safe.

Because that was his job. His only reason for living was to keep his sister safe. To keep her from knowing the shame, and humiliation that he felt every day. To keep her from the hunger, and pain that ate at him constantly.

To keep her from the absolutely brutal reality that he lived every single d ay.

And he'd succeeded for a while. For almost a year, before his sickness had finally caught up with him. He'd been feeling ill for months. His stomach would churn almost constantly, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. His hands and feet would tingle, like pins and needles dancing along his skin. And no matter how much he ate, or drank, it was never enough, the hunger and thirst nearly driving him to insanity. The cuts and bruises that littered his small, emaciated body never seemed to heal, lasting weeks before they would slowly start to heal.

It all culminated one cold, winter's morning. The morning when he tried to force himself to his feet, despite the pit in his stomach, despite the way the room had started spinning the moment he opened his eyes, despite the serious wrong feeling that was emanating from every single part of his body.

And despite Gretel's scared face, begging and pleading for her older brother to get up… He just couldn't do it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move from the small mat that served as his bed. He couldn't make his lips from the words he so desperately needed to say, to reassure Gretel that he'd be okay.

So Gretel had taken the small bit of money they had set aside for hard times (although it was hardly more than a few shillings), and managed to find an apothecary who was willing to visit the small, one-room shanty they called home.

Sugar sickness. After sticking Hansel with a needle the size of Excalibur, the elderly, hunched over, wizened little man had told them the illness had probably been building for months. Maybe longer. It was the result of too much candies and sweets, and not enough real food to counteract the sugar.

The month following the man's diagnosis was the hardest month of Hansel's life. Not because of the illness itself; that, after regular injections of the man's potions, had gradually gotten better.

It was hard, because during that month, he'd been confined to his bed, weak as a new-born babe, while his ten year old sister had slaved away for a seamstress in town, working twelve or fourteen hour days. She'd leave before the sun rose, coming back long after the sun had set, bringing back barely enough to afford his medication, and enough food to make sure Hansel got better.

And he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it, for a whole fucking month. A month of her treating him like an infant, working her fingers to the bone, barely eating, so she could take care of him.

So after a month, he'd put an end to it. As soon as he was able to stand on his own, he'd told Gretel she was done working. The very next day, he'd gone back to the streets of Augsburg, back to his old means of supporting his sister.

And that was their life, until Hansel turned thirteen. When he'd started to fill out, gaining almost a foot in height, and nearly fifty pounds of muscle, his previous… clients… had no use for him anymore. So he'd found work with a band of mercenaries, agreeing to do whatever odd jobs that needed doing in return for feeding and training him.

Of course, they hadn't expected him to bring his eleven year old sister along with him. But they'd taken a liking to the siblings spunk, and they'd trained her too.

From there, it'd been a short step to witch-hunting. A surprisingly short step, when Hansel thought back on it.

Which he never, ever did, he thought roughly, rolling over on the uncomfortable floor, and sliding one hand under his head. After twenty years of killing monsters, he'd trained himself to not think about those first few years after their parents had abandoned them.

And he sure as fuck didn't have nightmares about the shit.

"Hansel?"

He groaned when he heard his sister's voice above him. "Go to sleep, Gretel."

"What's bothering you?" She asked, her voice soft, as she peered over the edge of the bed, her eyes showing her concern.

"Nothing. Indigestion. Now go to sleep."

"But you're not sleeping."

"Because I'm the older brother," He said roughly, rolling over onto his side as he slid further back against the wall.

"Do you need something to eat?"

"Go to sleep."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alrighty so, I've decided to continue this, sat down, came up with a plot line, and I think it'll be half-way decent. Again, I apologize for any story-line errors, seen the movie once. Now, I know this chapter doesn't seem to have much to do with the past that I wrote in the previous chapter, but it will if y'all just bear with me. : ) Thanks to everyone who's read, or added this to their respective lists, and special thanks to everyone who reviewed.

* * *

Hansel groaned as he rolled over onto his back, another night of uneasy, restless sleep leaving him more tired than he had been when he'd laid down to sleep.

"Good morning, brother."

He groaned again at Gretel's cheerful voice from across the room. "What time is it?" He muttered, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Almost ten. Sleep well?"

He could hear the grin in her words, knew that she knew full well he hadn't. So he didn't answer as he pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to rub the kink out of his neck.

"So what's the plan for today?" He asked gruffly, searching around the floor for his injector, before sticking the needle through his pants, into his thigh, and depressing the lever.

"Well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, I was thinking about something," Gretel said, her voice becoming almost absent, and he knew without looking that she was reading her notes. "Two kids disappeared, right? A boy, and a girl, thirteen and fourteen."

"If you say so," He grunted, pulling himself to his feet, and plopping down at the table. He ignored her eye roll as he reached for one of the rolls that sat on the table – long since gone cold – and began to eat.

He never really paid attention to _why_ they were called to a town. Research was Gretel's thing, always had been, since he could barely read, and had no desire to learn. When he'd first told her that, she'd sarcastically asked what his 'thing' was. His answer was simple. _Killing_.

"I was thinking, that's a little old for witches to be snatching, isn't it?" She said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I mean, sure, they'll eat just about _anything_, but usually they only _kidnap_ younger kids. And supposedly, both of these kids just vanished into thin air, and nobody heard anything, nobody seen anything... Last place anybody remembers seeing them was in the center of town, few hours before dark."

"So... You're thinking runaways?" He asked, ignoring her grimace as pieces of biscuit flew out of his mouth.

"Well... Normally, I'd say yeah. But..." She frowned down at the papers again, grimacing as if they'd offended her.

"C'mon, spit it out, sis. I'd like to get started, and get paid sometime soon."

She was silent for a few more minutes, still staring at the papers, before she sighed. "I'm not sure. The timing's right – we're pretty close to the fall equinox – and there's been signs of a witch in the forest... They say there's a grove, where nothing grows. That everything inside the circle is dead, and rotting. The old woman who runs the herb shop said it's been like that for almost thirty years now."

"How many other kids go missing?"

"Could you please _eat_ your food, instead of spitting it back at me?" She asked sarcastically, and he gave her a wide, toothy grin, showcasing the latest unchewed bits of biscuit on his teeth. She groaned, before shaking her head, and getting back to business. "That's where it gets strange again. Only eleven. Thirty years, and these two put the number up at thirteen."

He shrugged as he stood, and grabbed his pack, rummaging through it for the apple he'd bought at the market the previous day. "Thirteen is the witch's lucky number."

"Yeah, but this is the first girl. And why spread out so far? Thirteen over thirty years? That's a little more than one every three years."

He actually paused for a moment, thinking as he took a few bites from the apple, his brow furrowing in concentration.

* * *

Gretel barely managed to keep the smile from forming on her lips as she studiously watched her older brother munch on his fruit.

While he liked to play up the brutish scoundrel, Hansel was far from the dumb, thick lug-head he tried to pass himself off as. She could tell by the way the corners of his lips turned down, the way his eyebrows drew closer together, and his foot tapping absently on the ground, that he was rifling through possibilities, and coming up with questions.

Most people just asked whatever questions came to mind, and kept asking until they got an answer they wanted. Hansel never just '_asked_'; he always knew _exactly_ what information he wanted or needed, always able to pinpoint just the right things to ask.

"What do you have on the other eleven? There's gotta be some sort of pattern, other than 'boys'. Same age group, same look, go missing from the same area? Find the pattern, maybe we can figure out why they broke the pattern grabbing the girl," He finally said, as he began loading all of his assorted weapons into their various sheathes, holsters, or pockets. "Ask around for a few hours, see what we can come up with, then we'll go check out that damn circle."

* * *

Hansel absolutely hated markets. Too many people, all crowding, shoving, and yelling, and that was on the days that nobody recognized him or Gretel.

Although she didn't seem to have a problem with it, he thought irritably, forcefully shoving a too-eager merchant away from him. The sea of people just seemed to flow around her, coming close, but never actually touching as she strode through the busy stalls.

"Where the hell are we going?" He finally snapped, shoving his way to her side.

"Just a little further," She said loudly, her brown eyes twinkling merrily, and he only barely resisted the urge to swat the back of her head. She knew how uncomfortable he was in large crowds, knew it set his teeth on edge, and riled up his temper.

And he was pretty sure she got a kick out of watching him trying to control said temper. It _amused_ her to watch him restrain himself from getting into brawls with the people who invaded his personal space.

With that thought, he did clip her on the back of the head, giving her a grin when she glared at him.

"Very mature," She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Older brother," He shot back, but his eyes had latched onto the three men standing at a booth, their eyes drifting up and down his sister's body. "How much further?"

"A few more stalls. What's wrong?" She asked quietly, stepping closer to him, picking up on his sudden shift in mood, the irritation gone from his voice, a dangerous edge replacing it.

"You've got admirers," He grunted, pushing her forward, his hand resting on the small of her back, hoping the possessive gesture would be enough to discourage the men from trying anything stupid, as he openly glared at the them.

"Relax," She said carelessly, in that way that he absolutely hated. "They're just looking. You know, if I treated every girl who looked at you the same way you treat men who look at me, we'd never get anything done."

He shrugged again, his eyes still watching the men – who'd wisely decided to do nothing more than look – as he repeated, "Older brother."

"That's your excuse for everything. Here we go. Try and play nice."

He forced a grin to his face as he followed her inside the dark building. "I'm always nice."


End file.
